


Missing Details

by The Hag (hagsrus)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-26
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hagsrus/pseuds/The%20Hag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by http://www.carnfort.u-net.com/Professionals/profmerc.htm<br/>(June 1999)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Details

They slithered the last few feet of the nerve-wracking descent,  
mercifully cushioned by the springy surface at ground level.

"There's the car, look!" Doyle panted, stumbling to his feet. "Right  
way up, too!"

"Don't know -- how far we'll -- get -- this time," Bodie gasped,  
grabbing his arm to steady him. "Still feel -- travel sick after --  
urghh -- "

"And the perishin' NOISE! Get in, quick!" Doyle tugged at the door  
handle. "What the--? Soddin' door won't open! Looks as if the  
bastards have welded it!" He peered helplessly through the window, at  
the back seat where he had enjoyed so many intervals of rest and  
refreshment in less frantic times.

"This side too." Bodie leaned against the Capri in exhaustion. "Feel  
as if all my joints are seizing up!"

"Mine too," Doyle mumbled with a certain lack of precise  
articulation. "Must be arthritis settin' in. I need a run- off."

"So do I. Here?"

They contemplated their surroundings uneasily, shrugged, and unzipped  
to deal with their bladders' exigencies.

Doyle gulped. "Bodie--I--you--!"

A stunned blue gaze met his own. "Where--? How--?" Bodie looked  
completely unmanned.

"Bodie! Watch out! They're back! Bodie!"

A colossal hand, podgy and dimpled, swooped down upon the Capri and  
propelled it around a demented series of invisible hairpin bends,  
accompanied by eldritch vocalizations of "VROOOOOMMMMMM!  
SCCREEEEEEEE!"

But Doyle hardly noticed, for his partner had been swept up by  
immense feminine fingers, and was being raised to a face that would  
have been attractive but for its gargantuan proportions. A voice  
sweetly thundered: "Anatomically incorrect! What happened to the fine  
details?"

"Bodie!" Doyle wailed, and prepared to assault the immense foot. But  
his gun refused to fire, and his fists made no impression on her shoe.

Despairing, he cast his mind back to long ago. Craning his neck, he  
cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled: "Oi, missus, please can  
I 'ave my Bodie back?"

She couldn't even hear him over the titanic brat's sound effects. He  
would have to shin right up her leg and do his best to distract  
her....

With what?

How was he supposed to function without the essential accoutrements?

"Where's our cocks, damn you!?" he howled impotently as a hideous  
mechanical shrilling deafened him.

"Usual place." Bodie silenced the alarm clock and wrapped him in a  
comforting hug. "Wake up, angelcrud!"

"Oh god!" Doyle groped in blind panic. "Can't feel--!"

"That's mine. Here's yours," Bodie reassured him with a knowing  
caress. "What do you want done with it?"

"Ough! Leave off, will you!" Doyle realized he sounded ungrateful.  
"Sorry, really got to pee! Thank god I can!"

"Told you not to have that indigestible apple and cocoa before bed.  
No wonder you get nightmares," Bodie told him smugly. "Geraldine  
Mather and the broken elastic again?"

"This giant toddler kept pushin' the car about, and then 'is mum  
stuck us on the mantelpiece, and afterwards she--" He shuddered.  
"Kate Ross and Geraldine Mather and that big gymnast all rolled into  
one couldn't-- Thought we'd never be priapismic again! Soon as I've  
been to the bog I'm settin' my toy soldiers free!"

Bodie shook his head bemusedly. "Should stick to beer and  
sausage-and-bacon butties for late supper like me. Get a move on or  
we won't have time to make sure everything's still attached and  
working."

"What time is it, anyway?" Doyle peered at the clock as he started  
towards the bathroom. "Half past flippin' dawn!"

"Supposed to meet the Cow for special duty at Buck House by eight,"  
Bodie reminded him.

"Oh shit!" Doyle stopped in the doorway. "Don't think I can stand the  
Palace today!"

"Mrs Thatcher's going to be there," Bodie offered enticingly. "Cowley  
said there's a whisper she's been practising a headlock to try out on  
the Queen. Perhaps her elastic--"

"Not Mrs T that's worryin' me," Doyle sighed. "Just got this sudden  
feelin' that if I get within arse-kickin' distance of one of those  
little... Bodie, is it high treason if you commit GBH on one of the  
royal corgis?"


End file.
